


Odorless

by TheGreatShiniGami



Series: A Glance Askance [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia, Broken Hearts, Cigars, F/M, Sociopathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5094914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatShiniGami/pseuds/TheGreatShiniGami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only time Tom had ever failed at anything; he didn't care that he had mucked it up. Although; thinking back on it, mucking it up was the only chance either of them had for success.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“If that is the case son; I feel most despondently for you. You may never be satisfied through the normal course of life and love. But there were many great Wizards and Witches who weren’t.” </i></p><p> </p><p>[Takes place before Duello Szforsando]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Odorless

Odorless

 

                The lecture hadn’t really interested Tom at all. Normally; Professor Slughorn had chosen exciting potions or rare brews for them to attempt in order to keep interest fresh or demonstrate the price of failure, this time seemed to be different. _Love potions…_ Of all the things that Tom had felt to be absolutely worthless; Amortentia had to be the most daft substance of all. It wasn’t that it couldn’t be used to get what one wanted but it was the _cost_ of doing so that came too greatly; the constant effort of dosing, brewing and maintaining such an enslavement. It was too easy to get caught, and such mind-embalming tactics could land quite the heavy handed judgment.

                That the object in question dealt with….affection and its induction in others had nothing to do with it. No.. Nothing at all.

                The Head Boy glanced around the room as the Professor went on about the side-effects of Amortentia such as difficulties with conception. Several of the girls from both houses gasped at the anecdote about what lovers who were kept away from the object of affection would do to get to them. He paused around the lead row of the Gryffindor side of the room. Not gasping, oohing or doing anything other than diligently taking notes and only occasionally observing Slughorn during his lecture about the other effects of the potion was his opposite number; Head Girl, Minerva McGonagall. Min seemed to have the same attitude towards the lesson that he did. It was only just as well; she had to have some sense if he considered her his only real competition.

                “Now; the identifying features of Amortentia are the mother-of-pearl sheen it gives nearly any object dosed with it; this is one of the three methods of detection outside lab testing and seeing thesmoke curl from the creation that can detect the potion. It can enter through the skin if mixed with dragon’s blood or any other transdermal solution; although it would be a disaster if one managed to dose themselves with it—and it can, Miss Glacinda! Some of the worst cases of Narcissus Ex Dementia are caused in such a fashion!” Slughorn lectured, sweat beginning to trickle down in face from the heat of so many cauldrons. Minerva scratched down a few more notes at this; Tom merely scoffed silently.

                “The other identifying factor in Amortentia is its Olfactory Differential. Who can tell me what that means?” Slughorn asked patronizingly; known that only two hands would shoot up from the class. And shot forward they did; almost simultaneously. Tom couched his words carefully; measuring the right amounts of debonair, nonchalance and cold calculation. Minerva kept her arm unwavering, yet she should have known that the Professor would hesitate to call on a Lion in the Lair. “Yes, Master Riddle?” He entreated him to respond.

                “It means that to each individual Amortentia smells of different substances based on what things that person desires or feels at peace with; a similar emotion to love. It used to be believed that these things would help one identify their ‘soul mate’.” The Head Boy replied succinctly; using ersatz quotes to emphasize his disgust with the term. Minerva shot him a look through her peripheral vision that would melt iron if she’d bothered to put any real Intent behind it. He smirked at her; being sure to put out his bottom lip slightly in a mocking pout afterward. The scarlet flashed across her face only for a moment before Minerva pointedly turned her gaze back to Slughorn.

                “Correct, Master Riddle! Thirty points to Slytherin. These smells aren’t the whole of desire for the person; but it will tell you what they like most in someone else.” Horace intoned jovially. Tom winced inwardly at the man’s tone. This usually marked something that Slughorn thought was clever; but was more than likely a setup to test one’s readiness for class.

                “As an example; why don’t you all come forward and waft some of the vapors and tell us what you smell? Miss McGonagall?” He asked, extending a hand towards her desk and beckoning her towards the podium. Diligently and without complaint; she rose and paced around the Gryffindor side of the classroom, especially making sure _not_ to look at a certain smirking Head Boy. This would be the test—to see if his suspicions were accurate about the Master/Apprentice arrangement between her and Professor Dumbledore were accurate. She could feel his eyes boring their way into her very Pattern, assessing every minute change in demeanor.

                The Professor opened the small vial in his hands and carefully cradled it in his hand. The opalescent fumes began to circle up from the open top as the Head Girl daintily wafted some of the vapors towards her and sniffed. The result was apparently inconclusive as she scrunched her eyebrows in concentration—and seemingly denial—and wafted again. _Yes!_ Tom thought, _She’s got to face it now; and I’ll have the advantage if she wants to have him stay on as Professor!_ Just enough to push her into accepting his proposition to the Isle of Man; but not enough to have her actually tell Dumbledore what his plan was.

A clear voiced: “Petrichor; accented by Lemon Oil and… Montecristo cigars.”She responded. The first two didn’t surprise him at all as Min had loved to walk just after a rain; and the lemon oil polish that the house elves used on the desks was probably a scent that she’d fallen asleep to many a time in the library. But the unanswered question was _: why did she smell his cigars in the bottle?_ A thought started to rise to the surface but Tom quashed it down just as quickly. It was pretentious and begging to be taken advantage of.

                “Ahh. And now you, Master Malfoy?” Slughorn intoned and invited the next student to sniff the solution. Several others followed; with Hestia Burke smelling her own hair—which was telling enough of the Burke twins.

                “Master Riddle?” Slughorn cajoled, left hand out and beckoning him up. _Must not show any hesitation…_ Tom thought; going over his actions from a critical perspective even as he did them. Rising fluidly from his desk, sauntering over to the middle aisle and casting a wink towards a group of Gryffindor girls in the back of the classroom; Tom took a theatrical pride in his jaunt, and slowly wafted over the strong scent of…nothing.

                The only sign of anything off was how quickly he made another wafting motion and breathed in deeply the scent of the room around him. There was no additional aroma; no clue or hint as to what he was supposed to do or say. Panic hit like a wave; but only underneath the placid attitude of Head Boy. _If a beautiful lie could not help…_ He thought; several students—including Minerva, looked at him awaiting his answer. The cold simplicity of the truth would have to suffice.

                “Are you sure you brewed this right, Professor? I smell nothing.” Tom said with one of his most charming smiles. Several onlookers gasped or chuckled while the Head Girl only tilted her head quizzically; as if she couldn’t really believe what she was hearing. Was he giving too much away?

                “I’m quite sure, my boy. Are you sure you’re not just trying to save face with cheek? Don’t want some girl to know she’s got a better chance than the others?” Slughorn suggested, raising his eyebrows in a sneaky fashion.

                “Not at all, sir. Did you add a _flawless_ pearl?” Tom quipped, showing that he did indeed know what he was talking about. This tactic had worked with Slughorn before; allowing him to show off what his private tutoring had done for the Head Boy’s knowledge. The corpulent Head of House loved seeing the ‘results’ of his ‘investments’.

                “Of course! Otherwise the smoke would spiral in the other direction. You don’t have to be coy, son; what do you smell?” The Professor responded. _Drat…_ A sickle short and a phase late with this one. Tom thought for half a moment and then doubled down on his attack.

                “What about the Belladonna? Seeds and not extract?”

                “Yes, Master Riddle. Stirred anticlockwise for a good, solid seven hours before this class.”

                “Then I’m afraid the fault lies with the observer; for I smell nothing, Professor.” Tom responded with a hastily faked sad smile. He scanned the room before stepping back from the podium. Minerva looked at him with suspicion; the question writ in her eyes as they followed Tom back to his seat. She wouldn’t gossip—and that was part of the problem—but her silent curiosity would lead to actual inquiry. And nothing could _truly_ hide from a cat; much less one who was actually a witch.

                “If that is the case son; I feel most despondently for you. You may never be satisfied through the normal course of life and love. But there were many great Wizards and Witches who weren’t.” Slughorn pontificated; and then continued with the lecture and brewing lesson.

                After the bell had sounded and the various samples of potion being gathered up; Tom slipped out of the classroom ahead of several other students. _You may never be satisfied in the normal course of life and love…_ He’d known that for a while now; ever since the Chamber. Anyone who was seeking what he was seeking would not be satiated from the _normal_ course; not when potential immortality was at stake. The memory was still fresh; even though it had happened last year.

_“Well, what ‘ave yeh done now, Riddle? Got a few o’ me housemates callin fer yer blood, eh?” The half-giant intoned gruffly._

_“Not this time, Master Hagrid. I simply thought that you might be interested in something.” Tom replied; smoothing his tie and tucking it back in from where the wind had swept his robes about. If anyone else had a way out of this situation; it would be Hagrid. He was always acquiring creatures of mysterious origin and finding them homes elsewhere. Too bad he was still upset about his Acromantula getting found._

_“Wha’s that?”_

_“I know what Aragog was scared of. It’s a Basilisk.”_

_“And any ruddy idiot knows that spiders fear the Basilisk. Are yeh tryin’ t’ get meh caught up in somethin’ again? Cause I want no part in whatever sneaky shite you Snakes have planned.”_

_“What if I told you I found one inside the castle.” Tom began. The large Gryffindor looked at him incredulously. Of course he didn’t know. No one did—outside of a few speculative Ravenclaws who looked into the legends of Hogwarts._

_“Then we have to tell Headmaster Dippet. He’ll have to get the ministry involved and probably send in an Auror team to destroy it.” Hagrid said; somewhat glumly. Tom knew he’d caught the Lion in his snare now. There was no way that Hagrid could see any creature put to death; not even something as ‘dark’ as a Basilisk._

_“I know; that’s why I came to you. I’ve found a secret area of the castle; and it lairs in there.” Tom explained calmly; wringing his hands for show._

_“How did you get away? We should go now; it could kill someone, Tom!”_

_“It’s not active right now. I’m a parselmouth; that’s part of how I found it. It’s in Slytherin’s Chamber. It’ll obey my commands due to my ties to the House bloodline; maybe we can get it out of here?”_

It had been a successful venture. Hagrid had managed distraction duty by releasing Nifflers into the Great Hall just as dinner had been served. Tom and Lucius had managed to secrete the large serpent into the exit drains that went to the moat. Hagrid proved useful again; being able to bend the grate bars into a large enough port for the snake to escape. All the while Minerva had chased and hounded them; culminating in her explosion at him in front of the Minister of Regulation of Magical Creatures.

_“There are rules! Ones that you have no regard for and that exist to keep students from the kind of danger you cause regularly!” She’d started in; Headmaster Dippet and Minister Stonagall slightly wide eyed at the intensity of her barrage. Tom merely crossed his arms over his chest and sighed._

_“Firstly; you neglected to inform the Headmaster for three weeks after you had found the creature—and learned to command it! Secondly; you approached a member of my house whom you’d previously informed on possessing an illegal creature to help you set Nifflers loose among a Reception Dinner for the Board of Governors! Do you have any idea the amount of embarrassment you’ve caused!?” She continued._

_“Minnie, let me explain…” Tom began, but was instantly cut off by the enraged Gryffindor Prefect._

_“What’s to explain, Master Riddle?! Other than why you’re sorry to be leaving Hogwarts forever!”_

_That had done it. No one threatened his home; his rightful place, especially now that he’d unsealed the chamber._

_“That between Lucius, Hagrid and myself; we located and unlocked Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets. We found the basilisk inside; and although it wanted to begin hunting the ‘filth’ of the school to feed, I commanded it not to. I saved more muggleborn lives than any Auror living tonight; and I did it all without you knowing about it until this last moment. If, Madam Prefect, this is a deed worthy of expulsion; then I’ll walk out of these halls proudly.” Tom said, gripping her by the shoulders and staring into her eyes with a most direct, piercing look. Brown depths met Green embers in the foggy night._

_“I believe Master Riddle is correct, Miss McGonagall. It seems that though several rules have been broken; but they have been for the good of the student body and all of Hogwarts. Such an action should be commended.” The Headmaster responded, separating the two._

As the reverie of memory ended; he sat in the Head Boy’s dormitory, taking a long, dragging puff while going over his research notes on Avalon. It didn’t make any sense; and it definitely wouldn’t do to have Minerva chasing after him _in that way_. While he’d flirted and dallied with other girls; he’d kept his sights off of her, save for the one tryst in Third Year. _Quiddich does make fast friends; or enemies…_ He thought; noting her one time alliance with him during the Ravenclaw/Slytherin game of that year. He let a billowing smoke ring out at the reminiscence; but discarded the scene with a wave as he let the ash fall silently into the ashtray. No; it wouldn’t do to be distracted right now. He’d lost his potential advantage with her; and now had the initiative in a way that he didn’t really want. Minerva was a nice enough girl; but he didn’t have use for the witch’s body now. He needed her mind and wand-arm; and the complications any other arrangement would bring might interfere with his plans.

It seemed as though Dame Fortune had set her sights on him as well; as during his scheming, the door to the shared bath opened and the Witch in question stepped into his dormitory. She didn’t look to be wroth with anger; so there was one exit down, and all the better for it. Tom didn’t want to burn the entire bridge down, just make clear definitions of lanes.

“Evening, Minerva.” He said; closing his notebook smoothly, not wanting to draw any attention to the documents therein. She sniffed twice, and cast her eyes downward for a moment; The Slytherin took another dragging puff before taking the cigar out and letting the ash fall again. It was important to let the ash fall on its own accord; the taste would ruin a bit if one stubbed the cigar out or thumped the ash off preemptively.

“Tom…” She acknowledged, clearly having trouble with her approach. That was to be expected. “Were you in the middle of something important?” She asked.

 

“Not terribly; just a minor research project I’m working on for Professor Slughorn. What can I do for you, Min?” The Head Boy responded; setting his cigar in the ashtray groove.  The smoke curled upwards languorously; hanging in low waves around the crown of his head.

“I wanted to ask you about what happened earlier today.” She began; taking the seat across from Tom.

“What do you mean?” The Slytherin replied; keeping his eyes locked on her face. He needed to chart this course slowly; this was a subject that apparently both of them were not very well versed in.

“What did you really smell? I know that you were bantering with Professor Slughorn; the two of you often do. I know it’s a rather forward question…” Minerva started, absently taking a copper curl into her left hand as she spoke.

“Yet you feel it to be pertinent to ask me now?” He quipped back; smirking and cigar still burning. She had to have expected some fencing from him; it was very much in the nature of their rivalry and friendship .

“I was getting to that.” Minerva said, coughing twice from the lingering smoke circles. “Can you do something about that?” She said, flicking her wand once to chase the haze from close to her face.

“It would be a shame to waste it; but since you’re here to talk, I’ll oblige you.” Tom replied, snuffing the quarter stub out in the ashtray.

“You don’t re-light them?” The Lioness asked. It wasn’t like her to get distracted…

“Gods, no; it ruins the taste, puts too much char in the leaf. Why do you want to know what I didn’t smell so badly, Minnie?” He responded, questioning her in turn. The Head Girl wasn’t too good at manipulation; it had been obvious that she was trying to lead the conversation before getting to the point. Or at least; it was to her opposite number.

“You mean what _scents_  you smelled? Yes; because you’re well aware of the scent I took in.” She asked back. She seemed convinced; as if she were either looking for an argument or at least so sure of herself that she believed her conclusion fully. If it was a row she wanted…

“I was telling the truth. It was odorless; shocking, I know. But I didn’t have a proper lie; and I knew that everyone would take it as if I _were_.” He replied; adding just a bit of acid to his tone to try and incite her to speak plain.

“You can’t be serious! Everyone smells _something._ Even if it was your own hair!” The Gryffindor growled. She crossed her legs again; shifting in her seat as she bristled at the remark.

“Are you calling me a narcissist? Because while I might have a bit of confidence, you’re mistaken in your assumption.” Tom shot back in a mock-wounded timbre. It looked convincing enough, from her expression in the crackling firelight.

“Is it another boy? I won’t judge you for that; but you have to be honest with us both.”

“Min… Grasping at grindylows isn’t like you…”

“Answer me! I need to know! To sort all this out in my head; to know what those scents truly mean for me.” She was standing now, all tense and sinewy with sanctimony. Tom gauged his reaction carefully; he had to respond to the rise in volume with proportion, but he didn’t want to burn the bridge between them completely. He rose from his seat and retorted; going with a chiding dismissal rather than an outright conflagration.

“ _It. Was. Odorless!_ ” Tom spat; putting heavy pauses in between the sounds. “ I know you’re well learned, Minerva! But you have to accept that you have overlooked the obvious on this occasion! Stop being such a Firstie over it!” The Slytherin added with a more medium vitriol.

“ _Firstie?!_ Need I remind you that it was _you_ who came to _me_ after the Ravenclaw game with your _amorous intent_! If anyone’s being the petulant child; it’s you! It’s just a simple answer; and I want to know why you’re covering it up!” Hotter, more indignant came the Lioness’ reply. She truly believed it; and that was the damndest thing about this situation. She truly believed that he felt for her in the way she felt for him. _She believed that he really felt…_

“I’m not covering _anything_ , Min. I didn’t smell anything; _it was odorless to me_. The answer you’ve found in your mind does not resonate outward!” He grumbled; placing the matchbook on the end table into his robe pocket as to prevent combustion from any sparks. It was difficult getting good cigar matches. Wand lighting didn’t give the same subtle hints of flavor.

“Liar! What other explanation can there be; other than your own cowardice of commitment! I’ve felt for you ever since our Second  Year, Tom! It has only grown as we’ve worked together. You can’t just leave everything between us with no closure! What did you smell!?” Minerva inquired again; her insistence showing no restraint. She would chase this line to the death of them both, Tom thought. It was then he wondered if he was really missing out on anything in the course of life at all.

“ _NOTHING!”_  The Serpent roared back, letting the raw anger show in his eyes for only a moment. The effect was successful; small beads of tears began to form behind the focus of her glasses.

“You still have the nerve to persist in that line! Why won’t you open up, _even to me_?! You’re hurting me with this! Hurting _us_ with this!” She creaked; she had obviously cracked at this point, Tom surmised. It was now time for the cold truth to lay bare this game between them.

“ _There cannot be any us!_ Do you know what happens to children that are conceived under the influence of Amortentia?” He said, letting the words fall flat at the end; suggesting an exhaustion he didn’t really feel.

_Did he really feel? Or did he just act like it? Questions best saved for later. Away from prying eyes.._

“What?” Minerva responded; incredulous. But the answer soon dawned on her the more Tom spoke.

“You’re right, _Ms. McGonagall_. You deserve to know the truth.” Tom said; finding his silver cigar case and turning it between his hands. “My mother; deluded witch that she was, decided to dose my father with the potion. She fed him on it continuously.” The Head Boy continued; watching the color drain from his counterpart’s face with only a slight pang of guilt. It wasn’t his fault she’d led herself into this trap; she should have had a better head for it, he thought.

“You can’t be serious…” Minerva choked, turning away from him to hide any building moisture from the green pools that shone behind her glasses.

“Oh, but I am. Of all witches; you _are_ the one I would be honest with. Once she had me, she thought that she might not _need_ the potion to keep him ensnared. The responsibility of a child; she thought, would keep him with her.” Tom explained. “Oh, how wrong she was. We were put out into the rain; to return to her father’s home. The Gaunt Shack. She starved herself to death shortly after that; and I was taken to an orphanage only a short time later.”

“This can’t be… _You mean; you felt, nothing? The entire time?_ ” She said, crying now, but not in racking sobs. Even with her soul crushed; she was still dignified. A Lioness to the bitterest of ends.

“I had a good time. But; the heart-flutter—the swoon of romance has no place in my heart. It can’t. It’s a terrible curse; one I would never want you to have to live with. That’s why I left you last year. I’m sorry Min.” He said mutedly. It had worked. His only concern now; was whether or not she would condemn him, spread the knowledge or keep it to herself.

_Cats can keep secrets, when it’s close to the heart…_

“What about these other troll—witches that you’re with? What are they? To you?” she asked, making her way towards the door of the shared bath.

“Honestly?” He asked, taking a cigar out of the case and slicing the tip with a swish of his wand. Minerva nodded.

“Company.” He responded, pocketing his wand and going to the Gargoyle Bar that Lucius had given him for Yule last year. Now that he had his own dorm, the bottles stayed fuller without the sipping of snakes to worry about.

Minerva had no response for his words; gulping once with her sorrow, she exited swiftly through the door and then through the other into her chambers from the sound of the slamming. Tom bit the cigar he’d prepared and struck a single match to light it. Puffing deeply to get the flame going; he then took a long drag as he made his firewhiskey. She would heal; as would he. Any bit of soulbaring was difficult for him.

 _What does it really mean to be satisfied? Isn’t that just another form of complacent? Pacified? Static and Stagnant?_  


End file.
